‘What’s it you do again?’ Sierra asked. ‘Other than being superior to all of us by studying at Oxford?’
Alice ignored that. ‘Mycology, but specifically I’ll be defending my dissertation next year on the reclassification of the Basidiomycota division by developing criteria for the unassigned classes across three critical subphyla. If it’s finished, that is.’
Sierra blinked. ‘Sorry, what?’
‘I decide what’s a mushroom and what’s not.’
‘Oh, cool,’ Sierra said, sounding like she actually meant it. ‘That must be a power trip.’
Alice frowned. ‘Not really…’
‘You might not, butIknow a mushroom when I see one,’ Freddie said.
‘Well, the visible characteristics—’ She cut herself off. ‘Right, you’re joking.’
He winked, then nudged her side with his elbow. ‘Nervous?’
‘What?’ she asked, smoothing a hand down the front of her shirt. Had he picked up on her glances at Briar? Was it normal to be anxious to shake your ex-best friend’s hand? Surely it was. ‘Do I look nervous?’
‘No,’ he said, squinting at her thoughtfully. ‘You look sad.’
‘Iamsad,’ she replied indignantly.
‘But it’s okay to be nervous, even though you’re also sad. Death isn’t as simple as just making you sad, it can make you feel a lot of emotions you wouldn’t expect.’ Alice stared at him and he shrugged. ‘I read it in a pamphlet about helping kids through grief when one of the campers lost a parent over the summer.’
‘I cussed out a priest at my dad’s funeral,’ Sierra chimed in.
‘All I’m saying is that you can grieve Susan and still want to avoid your ex and the girl who bullied you in high school at her wake.’
Before Alice could respond that she wasn’t avoiding anyone, and if shewereto avoid anyone, she would be prioritizing avoiding Briar over Noah and Harper anyway, they reached the front of the queue.
‘I’ll take that under advisement,’ Alice muttered over her shoulder as she approached the first in the line of family members, Briar’s dad. She’d never met him before. He and Susan had divorced, and Tom had absconded home to the UK before Alice had befriended Briar.
‘Mr. Elwood,’ she said, with a firm handshake. She hadn’t seen a picture of him in years, but for some reason she was still startled by how old he looked. In her head, Tom Elwood was younger and more vital than her own father. ‘I’m so sorry for your loss.’
‘I’m sorry for yours,’ he said, staring at her with a disconcertingly earnest expression. ‘She loved you very much, Alice.’
‘Um, oh.’ Tears filled her eyes before she had even processed his words. She couldn’t believe Briar’s deadbeat dad, of all people, was going to make her cry for the first time in years. She bit the inside of her cheek and managed to mutter out a ‘thanks’ before moving on to Briar’s siblings.
She pulled each of them into a hug in turn, since it would have felt silly to shake any of their hands. Laurel, who had been one of Alice’s favorite campers back in the day, squeezed her extra hard before letting go.
And then Alice was in front of Briar, the moment she’d been dreading since she’d decided to come to the funeral. She stuck out her hand, looking Briar in the eye. Close up, Alice could see the signs that Susan’s death had taken its toll, but Briar looked radiant even with her hazel eyes ringed in red. The May sun had already started to bring out the freckles on her cheekbones. The two of them used to joke that Briar looked like an elf from a fairytale, and Alice like a princess.
‘I’m so sorry for your loss,’ Alice said, and Briar took her hand as though just realizing she was there, looking at Alice in an expressionless way that somehow made her feel invisible.
‘Thanks for coming,’ Briar said, without a hint of emotion, and dropped her hand. Alice felt it like a slap.
Chapter 2
Briar
Briar spent the majority of her mother’s funeral wishing she could’ve culled the guestlist. Ten years later, Alice Hughes was as beautiful as ever. Staring up at her as she delivered her speaking portion, Briar had experienced the same flip in her stomach as she’d once had watching Alice present to the class. Except now, instead of feeling the warmth of friendship, seeing Alice only reminded Briar of betrayal.
At the wake, Briar resisted the urge to look over at the table where she knew Alice was sitting and attempted to listen to her Aunt Charlotte’s speech. Until a kick to her shin broke her focus, and she whipped her head around to her sisters. The twins sat with identical expressions of unconcealed contempt.
Stupid cow, Hazel mouthed to Briar, nodding at Aunt Charlotte, and Briar almost smiled. Their mother’s sister hadn’t lifted a finger to help the family when Susan had first received her diagnosis nearly six years ago. To hear her wax poetic to a room of her sister’s closest friends now that she was dead was almost too much to bear.
Laurel leaned over to whisper in Hazel’s ear and the two devolved into giggles that they quickly tried to pass off as coughs. Briar was about to tell them off when another kick landed, this one significantly sharper.
